<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538041" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Battle-Field</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands,<br>Were trampled by a hurrying crowd,<br>And fiery hearts and armed hands<br>Encountered in the battle cloud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! I never shall the land forget<br>How gushed the life-blood of her brave--<br>Gushed, warm with hope and courage yet,<br>Upon the soil they fought to save.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now all is calm, and fresh, and still,<br>Alone the chirp of flitting bird,<br>And talk of children on the hill,<br>And bell of wandering kine are heard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No solemn host goes trailing by<br>The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain;<br>Men start not at the battle-cry,<br>Oh, be it never heard again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon rested those who fought; but thou<br>Who minglest in the harder strife<br>For truths which men receive not now<br>Thy warfare only ends with life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A friendless warfare! lingering long<br>Through weary day and weary year.<br>A wild and many-weaponed throng<br>Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof,<br>And blench not at thy chosen lot.<br>The timid good may stand aloof,<br>The sage may frown--yet faint thou not.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,<br>The foul and hissing bolt of scorn;<br>For with thy side shall dwell, at last,<br>The victory of endurance born.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again;<br>The eternal years of God are hers;<br>But Error, wounded, writhes with pain,<br>And dies among his worshippers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, though thou lie upon the dust,<br>When they who helped thee flee in fear,<br>Die full of hope and manly trust,<br>Like those who fell in battle here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Another hand thy sword shall wield,<br>Another hand the standard wave,<br>Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed<br>The blast of triumph o'er thy grave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Cullen+Bryant">William Cullen Bryant</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=538041" data-title="The Battle-Field de William Cullen Bryant" data-description="Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, And fiery hearts and armed hands Encountered in the battle cloud. Ah! I never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave-- Gushed, warm with hope and ..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black